


Spread Your Wings

by mysticanni



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angel Wings, Devils, Fallen Angels, Flying, Happy Ending, Healing, Horns, Injury, M/M, Sort Of, Soup Kitchens, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Everyone told John how lucky he was to have Brian – his angel – on his right shoulder and Freddie – his devil – on his left shoulder.When John volunteers to work at a soup-kitchen for 'fallen' angels (and one lucky devil) who have been rejected by their hosts and grown to human size it is an even more rewarding experience than he had expected.
Relationships: John Deacon/Chris "Crystal" Taylor, John Deacon/Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 28





	Spread Your Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angeldrummerboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeldrummerboy/gifts).



> Angel Roger for the heavenly @angeldrummerboy - I hope you like it. :)

Very few people now hosted an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other to either guide them or (as some people thought) to balance them. 

Everyone told John how lucky he was to have Brian – his angel – on his right shoulder and Freddie – his devil – on his left shoulder. 

Once it had been common and most people had hosted an angel and a devil but it was now a rarity and regarded as an indication of good fortune. 

One day, shortly before John was due to start school an instruction manual had been squeezed through the letter-box and thudded onto the door-mat much to the consternation of John’s parents. The glossy cover declared that it was ‘The Host’s Guide – How to Handle Your Angel and Devil’. Once the shock had worn off they had been the first people to tell John how lucky he was to be getting an angel and a devil to guide him through life.

They had not read the manual at that point.

Freddie and Brian had simply been there one morning when John woke up and they had never left. They were tiny constant presences on his shoulders, Brian sitting primly on John’s right shoulder with his back straight and Freddie lounging along the length of John’s left shoulder.

Thankfully, one of the first things the manual explained was that you could tell them to be quiet and they had to obey. They talked a lot. 

His parents didn’t know anyone who had an angel and a devil. No one in John’s family was a host and no one in his class had an angel and a devil although one of the older children did and so did one of the teachers.

That was how John discovered that all angels and devils were different. His teacher’s angel considered everything sinful as far as John could tell and the teacher’s devil shouted nasty comments when the teacher allowed him to speak.

John vowed never to complain about Brian and Freddie again. “I should hope not, dear,” Freddie huffed, “we’re marvellous!”

“Count your blessings,” Brian nodded, “also...something about not getting conceited...” he murmured vaguely.

The older boy in school who hosted an angel and a devil had constantly singed and bloody shirt collars from where his devil had breathed fire and jabbed him with his forked tail. His angel was almost as strict as the teacher’s angel.

John was grateful for Freddie who only ever used fire to gently warm John’s ear and neck on cold days and Brian who was kindly and absent-minded and would gently heat John’s other ear and the other side of his neck with the warmth from his halo on cold days. 

Freddie and Brian both liked to sing and Brian played a tiny harp so John usually fell asleep with a sweet lullaby in his ears. He encouraged them to sing – it was better than having them bicker and squabble about what he should do. He could politely request that they were silent, of course – John rarely bluntly told them to shut up – but John found that he quite liked their background chatter which he discovered he could tune out.

Sometimes they were useful – they were immortal and had vast stores of knowledge that John could tap into if he needed help with his homework. Freddie claimed that they had been the angel and devil on the shoulders of Pythagoras and Brian didn’t deny it but John still wasn’t sure it was true.

The manual claimed that the angel and devil were at their most effective and doing what they were meant to do when you had a problem you asked for their help with and they provided you with a balanced view. John suspected Freddie and Brian had been together for so long they had kind of lost sight of this as they were in surprising agreement about a number of topics such as always being kind to animals, doing as your mother told you and the importance of doing your homework.

Freddie was not particularly devilish. Brian was not always particularly angelic. John found it impossible to imagine life without them. 

*

John was at university before he discovered that some people rejected their angel and devil. He had moved to London and a piece of paper pinned to a notice-board near one of his lecture halls was asking for volunteers to work at a soup-kitchen for fallen angels. “What’s a fallen angel?” John asked. He felt both Brian and Freddie shudder.

It was Freddie who explained that some people rejected their devil and their angel. They flung them from their shoulders. When this happened to a devil they burst into flames and burnt up. Angels, however, lived.

“They grow to human size,” Brian explained, sounding as if he found this idea both intriguing and slightly distasteful. “Society regards them as useless, obviously, so they tend to be vagrants, begging for scraps.”

“But...” John frowned. “You wouldn’t be useless,” he pointed out. “Think of all the things you know.”

“Thank you,” Brian inclined his little head towards John, his dark curls bobbing around his face. He sighed. “Society sees discarded angels as little better than unwanted vermin and on the rare occasions a devil is displaced and does not burn...”

“There are fallen devils too?” John asked. 

“Hardly any,” Freddie replied. “The only time a devil survives is when both the angel and devil are separated from their host shortly before their host dies. So, for example, there was a pairing whose host was in a car accident. They were flung from their host’s shoulders on impact and then the host died. If we are not with our human when they die then we don’t go to the Waiting Room to be matched with another host – we grow to human size and remain on earth.” Freddie sighed. “Society may dislike fallen angels but they barely tolerate a discarded devil.”

Making a mental note to ask Freddie and Brian more about the Waiting Room at a later date John added his name and phone number to the blank space on the piece of paper asking for volunteers for the soup-kitchen.

That evening he was contacted by a man who called himself Miami – although that surely couldn’t be his actual name – who asked him to meet him near St Pauls cathedral on Saturday. “I don’t know how you can be bothered, dear,” Freddie drawled.

“You are doing a lovely thing, John,” Brian told him warmly.

Miami was wearing an immaculate suit when he met John on Saturday. John saw his eyes drifting towards Freddie and Brian as people’s eyes tended to do. John introduced them. “Pleased to meet you,” Miami said, “Um...We’ve never had a host volunteer before.”

“Will that be a problem?” John wondered. He hadn’t considered how a fallen angel might feel seeing Brian perched happily on his shoulder. “If the angels would be uncomfortable with me then perhaps I could do something where I wouldn’t be seen?”

“Or perhaps we could go home,” Freddie suggested brightly, “Or better still, shopping.” 

“You’re doing a very good thing, John,” Brian reminded him. 

“I’m sure the angels will be fine with it,” Miami said, sounding doubtful. “They’re all very sweet,” he added, sounding more certain. 

“We’ll try to hide in John’s hair as much as possible,” Brian offered. Freddie muttered something but did not actively disagree which John knew meant he would also conceal himself.

“Thanks, guys,” John murmured. He followed Miami down a little alley and down towards the river Thames. There was a railway station here and a railway bridge stretched out across the river. The soup kitchen was tucked into one of the arches under the bridge. Sun sparkled on the murky looking water of the river and played on the walls of the bridge. 

John stood and gaped for a moment at the cluster of angels waiting for the soup kitchen to open. Brian dressed all in white with a glowing halo set on top of his dark curls. These angels were dressed in ordinary clothes – jeans and t-shirts and coats – everything well worn and often none too clean. Their enormous wings were folded behind them and their halos sat on top of their heads too.

They shuffled to one side as Miami preceded John up to the door set in the wall. To John’s surprise the door swung open from the inside. “Mr B,” a voice greeted Miami.

“Crystal,” Miami said, stepping inside. John followed Miami and Crystal into a small space with a curved roof. The walls were plain brick. There were battered long wooden tables and benches taking up most of the space. Two giant vats of soup – which smelled delicious – were sitting on a counter at the far end of the room. “This is John,” Miami said, indicating John. He looked uncertain and John knew he was wondering if he ought to introduce Freddie and Brian too.

As always Freddie saved him the trouble by peeking out from under John’s hair and drawling, “A pleasure to meet you, my dear, I’m Freddie and my better half over there is Brian.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Brian said politely. 

John was staring at Crystal who had a red forked tail swishing through a hole in the rear of his jeans and folded red leathery wings that looked like a design on the back of his leather jacket unless you took a closer look. John could see the tips of his horns peeking up through his hair. “Uh-Hi...”

“Yeah, I’m a devil,” Crystal muttered. “Child had a fit, threw us off before he died.”

“I’m sorry,” John said.

Crystal merely nodded at John and said, “Come with me, I’ll find you an apron.”

*

John ladled soup into bowls and placed the bowls on trays which also held plates with buttered rolls on them. The angels shuffled past the counter each picking up a tray and moving along to sit at one of the tables. One of the last angels in the queue, with dark hair and a sweet face, murmured, “How is Roggie, Crystal?”

“Hi Phoebe,” Crystal said, “He’s a pain in the arse.” He grinned then his face grew serious again, “He’ll live.”

Phoebe smiled at him, “Bless you for looking after him,” he murmured. There was a little chiming noise and his halo seemed to grow brighter for a moment.

Crystal snorted but he looked pleased. “I didn’t have much choice,” he muttered. 

“You have a good heart,” Phoebe told him as he shuffled off to find a place at a table.

John had noticed that the angels all helped each other and were kind to each other in a way he wasn’t sure a group of humans in the same circumstances would be. They were supportive of each other. The atmosphere in the soup kitchen felt warm and loving. 

Once the angels had filed out John helped Crystal and Miami wipe the tables, wash the dishes and scrub out the vats that had held the soup. “Will you come again next week?” Crystal wondered.

John nodded. “Do you only open on Saturdays?” he asked.

“Every day,” Crystal told him. “Phoebe, the angel who asked how Roger is, helps us on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and we have a couple of retired women who help on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Roger used to help on a Saturday and Sunday but he’s out of action.” He smiled at John. “I was glad you were here.” 

“Do you need help tomorrow?” John asked. 

Miami smiled. “We always need help if you can spare the time.” 

*

Crystal opened the door to John the next day. “Thanks for coming,” he said, “Miami is having Sunday lunch with his family so with Rog out of action I’d have been on my own if it wasn’t for you.”

“Is Roger your angel, dear?” Freddie asked, peeking out from behind John’s hair.

Crystal nodded. “Yeah, he’s my better half as you would say!” He grinned. “Come in.”

John entered the soup kitchen and saw the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

By the counter balancing on crutches was an angel – a battered angel with a badly bruised face, one leg in a plaster cast, one wing hanging at an awkward angle and a flickering faulty halo. Yet despite his injuries the angel was still the most beautiful being John had ever seen.

“This is Roger,” Crystal said, adding, unnecessarily, “my angel. Birdie, this is John.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Roger said, smiling. “Crystal neglected to tell me you were so beautiful.”

John blushed. Crystal rolled his eyes. “Birdie is an incurable flirt,” he told John. “Park your arse, angel, before you fall over.” Crystal gently escorted Roger to a seat beside the counter. “There,” he said his voice soft. “Sit there and let everyone fuss over you.”

All of the angels paused to speak to Roger as they collected their trays of soup and bread, saying it was good to see him up and about – that they were glad he was on the mend – that they had been saddened to hear he had been hurt. John wondered what had happened to him.

“Roger,” the angel who had asked how Roger was the previous day, Phoebe, beamed as he saw Roger sitting by the counter, “How lovely to see you!” 

“Hi, Phoebe,” Roger greeted him. Phoebe folded him into a very careful embrace. John noted how closely Crystal watched, presumably to ensure Roger was not hurt in any way. 

Phoebe took his tray and placed it on the table nearest to him. Instead of sitting down he cleared his throat. His halo glowed very brightly. All of the other angels looked at him. “I have noticed that John has a Bonded Angel on his shoulder. As I am sure you all know a Bonded Angel could lead us in a song of healing for Roger.” He glanced at John, “If the Bonded Angel would be willing of course.”

Brian stood up on John’s shoulder and said that he would be willing. Phoebe beamed. “After we have eaten, then,” he suggested. All of the angels in the room nodded simultaneously.

John made a mental note to ask Brian about this later too. He had never heard Brian referred to as ‘bonded’ before. He assumed they meant bonded to him. He was also unsure about why Brian needed to lead the song for Roger.

“Thanks Phoebe,” Crystal said.

*

Once the angels had eaten they brought their empty plates back to the counter and Crystal began to ferry these to the sink. “You go to Phoebe, John,” he requested. “Your angel needs to lead their song.” He must have sensed John’s bewilderment as he added, “As your angel is still in situ on your shoulder his magic is more powerful than that of the grounded angels. He will significantly boost their power.” He peered at Brian. “Thank you, Brian,” he said. 

Brian replied that he was welcome and John moved out in front of the counter to stand next to Phoebe. Brian produced his harp and plucked it. The sound was at a startling volume – amplified well beyond the volumes John was accustomed to. He heard Freddie tut. “Really, Bri,” he muttered. “John, darling, I’m going to momentarily adjust your hearing so you aren’t deafened by the idiot angel...Okay, Brian, you won’t burst John’s eardrum now.”

Brian began to sing and the other angels all joined in. It was beautiful, like a well-drilled choir comprised of soloists with gorgeous voices. The words were in a language John didn’t understand. As the final notes died away he heard sobbing and Crystal murmuring, “There, there, Birdie.”

John turned to look at Roger and was astonished to see that he was now completely healed. His leg was no longer in a cast. His halo was glowing brightly and steadily. His wing was no longer twisted and sticking out at an awkward angle and his feathers looked clean and whole. His face was no longer bruised and cut.

He was even more beautiful now.

“Oh,” John breathed. 

“Thank you,” Roger gulped, “Oh, I’ll never be able to thank all of you enough, especially you, Brian!” 

John moved close enough for Roger to be able to hear Brian, whose voice had now reduced to the usual volume, say that it was nothing. “Oh, it’s everything to me!” Roger smiled. 

“That worked much better than I had anticipated,” Phoebe said happily. He seized Roger and folded him into an enthusiastic hug.

Crystal gruffly thanked Brian and John suspected he had been crying. “What happened to him?” Freddie asked.

Crystal’s hands bunched into fists and he scowled. His forked tail emitted a little shower of sparks. Smoke swirled around him and John realised he was literally fuming. “He went to the assistance of a woman who was being mugged by a gang of kids and they turned on him. We aren’t allowed to use any violence or magic in public, as you’re probably aware, so he was helpless.”

“That’s awful,” John murmured. 

“Yeah, well, thanks to you he’s good as new,” Crystal smiled. 

*

Once they had cleared up the soup kitchen with Roger and Phoebe’s help Crystal insisted that they should all go out for a drink to celebrate Roger being healed. He told John there was a bar nearby that would admit fallen angels and Crystal. “Crystal isn’t welcome in many places,” Roger said sadly. “People are worried about how a devil will behave when he has no host to control him.”

“No one wants big talking birds, either,” Crystal said, sticking his tongue out at Roger. “They’re afraid you’ll start to preach at them.”

Roger sighed. “There are so many preachy angels,” he admitted. “They do tend to be the ones who are discarded by their hosts but I feel it gives the rest of us a bad name.” He glanced at John. “When there is no one to tell them to shut up, you see...”

John nodded. He saw. Brian did not preach. Well, not much. But John had met several other angels who did. Their hosts tended to order them to be silent quite a lot.

“And people just don’t know what to expect from a devil,” Roger continued. “A lot of humans have encountered foul-mouthed and abusive devils on people’s shoulders and they assume they are all like that.” He grinned and his halo twanged as he added, “Crystal is foul-mouthed and abusive, of course.” 

“At least I’m not an overgrown budgie,” Crystal retorted. 

“We’re very misunderstood,” Freddie sighed.

“We fucking are,” Crystal agreed. “We’re there to play Devil’s Advocate not bad-mouth everyone and everything. In my day these lazy devils would have been pulled off the job!” 

“That’s very true,” Freddie said. “Standards have slipped. It’s the same with the angels – they are supposed to teach not preach.”

Brian coughed. “I like to think I do,” he muttered. 

“Oh, I don’t mean you, dear!” Freddie said.

Roger looked slightly worried. “I’m not sure I was very good at teaching,” he murmured. 

“I’m sure you were a lovely angel for all your hosts,” John assured him, blushing slightly. 

“You were kind, Birdie,” Crystal said, muttering, “and you still are. You were kind and I was stricter and we worked very well together.” He pushed open the door of a pub called The Golden Time and they entered.

It was an old-fashioned pub with a threadbare heavily patterned carpet and dark wooden tables and chairs. There were a few other people inside but no one really looked up as they entered.

They sat at a table in the corner. John offered to buy the first round but Crystal wouldn’t hear of it. “You, and your angel, are our saviours so the drinks are on us.” He glanced at Roger, “Birdie, give us your wallet, will ya?” 

Roger rolled his eyes but obediently handed over his wallet. Phoebe offered to help carry the drinks and accompanied Crystal to the bar.

There were a couple of other angels in the bar too, John noticed. He realised one of the bar staff was an angel too. Roger followed his gaze. “It’s difficult for us to get work,” he told John. “Crystal is employed by Miami’s soup kitchen charity otherwise it would be pretty much impossible for him to work. I work some shifts as a receptionist at a dental surgery. The dentist is a host and he thinks having an angel present makes the patients feel calmer. It doesn’t pay very much but it makes me feel useful.” 

“That’s good,” John said. Roger’s presence would be soothing he thought. He had a horrible feeling he was staring at Roger and looked down at the beer mat he was still turning in his hands. 

“Crystal says you’re a student?” Roger asked. John nodded. “What are you studying?”

“Electrical engineering,” John replied. “I’ve always liked fixing things,” he explained, flushing slightly.

“I’m sure you’ll be excellent at it,” Roger beamed. “Did your pair help you choose your course?”

John nodded. “Yes, they helped me consider all the options.”

Roger’s halo made a happy chiming sound. “That’s what we are meant to do,” he smiled. A sad look crossed his face. “Sometimes I miss having a host,” he sighed. 

“It must be difficult,” John said. “Uh...How long...?” He wondered if it was rude to ask. Freddie and Brian were keeping surprisingly quiet. “Don’t feel you have to answer,” he added quickly, “I probably shouldn’t have asked...”

“No, it’s fine,” Roger smiled at him. “It’s been three years now,” he said softly. 

“It must have been a terrible shock,” Brian offered sounding sympathetic.

“Oh, yes, darling,” Freddie agreed. “It’s everyone’s worst nightmare, isn’t it?”

“It was a shock,” Roger told them. “I feel lucky that I still have Crystal with me. I think losing your other half would be even worse.” 

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Freddie sighed. 

Phoebe and Crystal returned and set the drinks on the table. John wondered about Phoebe – he seemed so sweet. John couldn’t imagine anyone throwing him away. He felt it would be insensitive to ask what had happened, however. 

He discovered that Phoebe worked as a cleaner in a hospital when he wasn’t helping at the soup kitchen. “The hospital has an administrator who thinks that having fallen angels around in any capacity brings a sense of peace to the patients,” he told John. “I don’t know if it is true but I like the job – there is a satisfaction in making things sparkle.” 

*

It was raining when they left the pub and Phoebe and Roger automatically held their wings over Crystal and John’s heads to keep them dry. “I don’t need a parasol, Birdie,” Crystal growled. 

“But your poor little bald head will get wet and then you might catch a chill,” Roger remarked.

“I have hair,” Crystal muttered. He glared at Roger but John noted that he nestled against him, still under his wing as they walked.

“Shall we escort you home, John?” Phoebe offered as they approached the entrance to Bank tube station.

John shook his head. “I can get the tube from here. I’ll be fine.” He ignored the little voices in both ears suggesting that he should stay with the others a little longer. 

“They seem interesting and good company,” Brian was saying. “Would there be any harm in spending a bit more time with them?”

“Crystal would be devilishly good in bed, darling,” Freddie was murmuring in his other ear, “We never disappoint. And I expect the angel would be positively heavenly. Are you sure you want to go home alone?”

Phoebe hugged him. It was like being wrapped in a warm downy duvet cover. John nestled against him with a contented sigh, feeling safe and warm. “Goodnight, dear,” Phoebe said, “Have a safe journey home and sweet dreams.” It sounded like a command and John felt tingly when Phoebe said it. 

He felt Brian shift on his shoulder. “Your sweet dreams are my role!” Brian said a little bit crossly. John heard a rare jarring discordant note ring from his halo.

“You’re my angel, Brian,” John murmured, “and you have much more magic than Phoebe or Roger, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Brian muttered, still sounding a bit sulky, “I do.” 

“Ooh, ruffled feathers over there?” Freddie laughed. 

Roger hugged John too – his wings soft and warm and comforting. “We’ll see you soon, I hope?” Roger murmured. 

“Yes,” John agreed. 

He was slightly surprised to be hugged by Crystal too. Crystal seemed to realise this. “What, you didn’t think a devil would give you a hug?” he smirked. “We give the best hugs – not like being suffocated by a walking feather pillow.”

Crystal’s hug was firm. He was warm too. Smouldering, John thought dreamily. Crystal kissed his cheek. “You will get home safely,” he dictated and John felt tingly again. 

This time it was Freddie’s turn to shuffle on John’s shoulder. “I would never allow anything to happen to you on your journey home!” he snapped. 

John murmured, “I know, Freddie.” He took one last glance over his shoulder at the departing angels and devil before descending into the depths of the tube station. 

*

John regularly helped at the soup kitchen after that. He usually went on a Sunday and gradually got to know all of the angels who attended regularly. Most of them did not preach. When he remarked on this Crystal grinned. “Preachy angels don’t like a devil ladling their soup,” he explained.

“Roger won’t hear a word said against Crystal,” Phoebe told John later when they were washing soup bowls and Roger and Crystal were out of earshot. “So if an angel mutters about him or calls him sinful or says he shouldn’t be permitted to work here then Roger tells them everyone is welcome here and if they are unable to accept that they are free to leave. He could compel them to leave, of course, but he doesn’t. He is very sweet – they seem to find that worse than anything.”

“Compel them?” John echoed. 

“It is part of our magic,” Brian explained. “We can compel others but not our host.”

“We have to persuade you, dear,” Freddie sighed, “It’d be so much easier if we could just will you to do things.”

“So the angels who come here tend to be...I hesitate to say nicer about my own kind but...nicer,” Phoebe concluded. “More accepting,” he added.

“I’m glad I came here, then,” John said. 

“There is a general trend towards hosts receiving milder angels too,” Phoebe noted, “possibly because the preachy ones tend to be cast down. I understand that surveys show that there are fewer angels – and devils – being discarded each year.”

John wondered if there were fewer angels and devils in existence each year too but did not voice the thought. “That’s good,” he said. 

Freddie asked the question John was scared to, “Phoebe, dear, what happened to you? Any host would surely have been delighted with you.”

“It’s very kind of you to say so,” Phoebe smiled. “It was an accident,” he sighed, “A little like Roger and Crystal’s story. My host had a fit and we were thrown to the ground. My devil did not survive,” Phoebe explained sadly, “And although our host survived the fit we had been separated for too long and I became a fallen angel.”

“How sad,” Freddie murmured, “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“As you were accidentally discarded do you go back to the Waiting Room and get paired with another devil?” Brian asked. 

John found he was holding his breath waiting for Phoebe to reply. He hoped some lucky future host would benefit from having Phoebe as their angel. He was delighted when Phoebe nodded. “Yes, I’m very fortunate in that regard. I will have another host one day.”

*

There had been a few visits to the pub since their first trip and John found these very enjoyable. He sat now, sipping a pint and listening to Crystal’s stories of life on the shoulder of a Victorian gentleman. “So they had to climb out the window of the brothel and flee down an alley with their clothes in their hands. Turns out they’d only really grabbed a full set of clothes for one person so they looked a bit odd as they scampered home.”

“What was your advice?” John grinned. 

“Well, we advised Thomas to leave via the window,” Roger sighed, “and I’m afraid we assumed he would grab his clothing but he wasn’t the brightest host we’ve had.”

“He had a very amiable disposition though,” Crystal noted.

“He was a sweetheart,” Roger confirmed. 

“Who is the worst host you’ve had?” Freddie wondered. 

Roger and Crystal looked at each other. “Cecil was a total dick,” Crystal ventured.

“Yes,” Roger agreed, “And I wasn’t fond of Georgina,” he added. 

“Oh, she was a nippy cow,” Crystal agreed. “I think on the whole Cecil was worse, though. He was an arrogant sod.”

“Who is your worst host, Freddie?” John asked.

“You, darling, of course,” Freddie laughed, “I’m only joking, my dear!”

“You’re one of our best hosts,” Brian said.

In unison they said, “Desmond.”

“He was deeply unpleasant,” Freddie told them with a shudder. “He didn’t bathe either and I don’t need to tell any of you how disgusting it is to be on the shoulder of someone who doesn’t wash.”

“Absolutely appalling,” Brian agreed. “He was rude and aggressive and stupid which is a terrible combination. And he stank.”

“I’ve been very lucky,” Phoebe sighed, “All of my hosts were lovely.”

“You deserve all the good hosts,” Roger said. 

As Roger and Crystal had been dislodged in an accident, like Phoebe, they would return to the Waiting Room and be attached to another host once they died. “Which kind of implies we’ll die at the same time,” Roger had remarked to John when he had told him this. “I hope we do, anyway, I don’t want to be stuck here or stuck in the Waiting Room without Crystal.”

*

John had found that Freddie and Brian could be off-putting to prospective suitors. Initially they were a bonus – people stopped to talk to him, curious about his angel and devil – but the idea that John was essentially carrying two tiny opinionated figures everywhere with him – a constant presence in their relationship...John could understand people’s reluctance to get involved with him, to be honest.

“It was different in the days when most people were hosts,” Brian sighed. 

“People understood then,” Freddie agreed. “Not to worry, darling, you’ll find an enlightened soul.” 

They had continued to encourage John to spend time with Crystal and Roger. “You need a little fun in your life,” Brian told him.

“They represent your best chance of getting laid at the moment, darling,” Freddie informed him, “And I do think you deserve to experience fucking a devil.”

When Brian and Freddie gave John advice of a personal nature they could stop their words being overheard by others. (Explaining this didn’t really help when trying to conduct relationships with non-hosts, sadly.) This meant that Brian and Freddie were apt to speak about Crystal and Roger while they were present.

Roger had flushed one evening as they sipped drinks in the pub. “Uh-You know that we can...”

“Don’t,” Crystal had cut in quickly.

Roger looked bemused. “But...”

Crystal sighed loudly. “You’re such a spoil-sport Birdie.” 

“I know humans can’t hear you when you give John personal information,” Roger said, blushing slightly, looking at Freddie and then Brian, “but we,” he gestured at Crystal and Phoebe and then himself, “can.”

“And you’re only telling us this now?” Freddie screeched. 

“It’s been very entertaining,” Crystal informed him. He laughed as Freddie made a rude gesture in his direction.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before,” Roger mumbled. Phoebe nodded. “It was funny though,” he added. 

“That doesn’t make us feel any better,” Brian muttered. 

“Crystal is very satisfying,” Roger told John, blushing again.

“This sounds like my cue to leave,” Phoebe remarked, draining his glass and standing up, shrugging his coat on. “May you all have fun,” he added.

John had a tingly feeling again as if Phoebe had prescribed fun. He felt slightly overwhelmed suddenly and looked from Crystal to Roger. He noted -partly amused and partly exasperated -that Freddie and Brian were now silent. 

“Would you like to come back to ours and we can get to know each other even better?” Crystal offered.

“Nothing will happen unless you are completely comfortable with it,” Roger assured him. 

“You’re damn right it won’t,” Freddie hissed at the same time as Brian said, “It certainly won’t!” 

John grinned. “I’d like that very much,” he told them. 

*

Roger and Crystal lived in the draughty rooms on the top floor of a boxy little building on a small industrial estate in Whitechapel. “We’re kind of instead of having security,” Crystal explained. “Downstairs is an art studio. The lady who owns it makes all kinds of stuff – pottery and glass.”

“Fascinating to watch,” Roger enthused.

The rooms were large. “Hard to heat,” Crystal sighed.

“Luckily Crystal has his own internal infernal sources of heat,” Roger smiled.

“Yeah, and Birdie is a walking duvet,” Crystal noted. “This place is perfect for us because it means he can spread his wings,” he told John.

John realised he must look eager as he turned to Roger because Roger laughed and obligingly spread his wings. Some smaller feathers fluttered into the air. “Beautiful,” John breathed. 

Crystal sniffed. “Cumbersome,” he said, spreading his own much smaller wings.

“Can you fly?” John felt bold enough to ask. 

He knew Roger could fly – the grounded angels were forbidden from flying but he knew they sometimes broke this rule. Once, thrillingly, Roger had gathered John in his arms and swooped over the Thames with him at the end of an evening. The lights from street lamps had glittered on the water. Roger had flown up, up, up until the people on the ground strolling along the river banks seemed tiny and the boats looked like toys then he had swirled downwards. It had been one of the best experiences of John’s life – enchanting and exhilarating – he had revelled in the intoxicating freedom of flying. Freddie and Brian could both flutter off his shoulders slightly so he could see them properly but there was a limit to how far they could go.

Crystal folded his wings against his back again. “No,” he sighed. “I could when I was bonded but at this size my wings aren’t viable. I can get off the ground slightly but that’s about it.”

Roger wrapped a comforting wing around Crystal. “You can fly with me,” he said softly.

“Yeah, I know, Birdie, and I’m grateful but it’s not quite the same,” Crystal kissed Roger’s cheek. “Still, at least I’m not dragging those massive things about.”

“They’re not heavy,” Roger said, “Or maybe I’m just used to it.” He pulled John close to him with his other wing.

John was more accustomed to this now – the soft warmth of Roger’s wings and the sense of calmness and wellbeing he felt when he was close to Roger. He rested his head on Roger’s shoulder. It occurred to him that no one could do that to him, really, because of Freddie and Brian. He supposed they might oblige him by fluttering off for a second if anyone wanted to rest their cheek on one of his shoulders. 

“We take up hardly any room at all!” Freddie protested. John was accustomed to them knowing what he was thinking. “There is ample space for someone’s chin to rest!”

Roger laughed. “I’ve never made love with an audience before,” he said cheerfully. 

His halo made a little squeaking sound. “Liar,” Crystal grinned. 

“Not like this,” Roger protested. He sighed. “I can’t get away with anything.”

“I know how you feel,” John joked and was rewarded with a sweet kiss, his lips and Roger’s meeting. “Oh,” he murmured as they parted. 

Brian cleared his throat. “We are very lenient, actually.”

“Oh, hush, angel,” Freddie scolded him, “now is not the time.” 

Roger ran the tip of his wing down John’s cheek and John felt his cock stir. “Shove over then, Freddie,” Crystal said and John felt his chin come to rest on his shoulder. “Imagine how Birdie’s feathers feel when he sweeps them over your naked body,” he murmured in John’s ear. John made a little whimpering noise and Crystal laughed. “What I’m trying to say is – we’re all wearing too many clothes.”

*

John drifted awake slowly, warm under a feathery wing. A smile spread across his face as fragments of the night before floated into his mind – he had discovered that both his bed mates used their wings to boost the power of their thrusts – at times he had literally been swept off his feet. Crystal had run the tip of his tail over John’s skin creating a little buzz as sparks flew. “I can’t do this with Birdie,” Crystal had said delightedly, “It’s a fire risk with him.”

John had found out that Roger’s halo felt warm beneath his hand as he looked down at the angel kneeling in a pool of feathers with John’s cock in his mouth. Crystal’s horns were warm to the touch too. His cheeks flushed as he considered the things they had done.

“Mornin’ love,” Crystal mumbled, heaving his body into a sitting position and scrabbling for the carton of cigarettes on the bedside table. Roger stirred and mumbled something as the wing he had curved protectively over them was moved. Crystal shook a cigarette out of the packet and breathed gently on the end to light it. “Want one, babe?” he asked.

“He doesn’t smoke,” Brian said immediately. Brian was very anti-smoking. 

“No, thank you,” John replied. 

Crystal grinned at him and sucked deeply on the cigarette. “Perk of immortality,” he said. “But Brian is quite right, of course, you shouldn’t.”

John could feel Brian glowing. “Isn’t that the sort of thing Roger should say?” he laughed. 

“It’s hardly in the interest of any devil to see their host die too soon from lung cancer,” Crystal told him, wriggling and scooping John onto his lap. He rested his chin on John’s shoulder, displacing Brian, who fluttered in the air next to John’s upper arm. 

Roger made another small sound of protest as his wing was jostled again. One blue eye opened. “You’re awake without me,” he slurred. 

“Shouldn’t be so lazy then, should you Birdie?” Crystal retorted. He had one arm around John’s waist and the other was holding his cigarette. He slid the cigarette between his lips and reached out to tangle his fingers in Roger’s hair. 

Roger also sat up and Crystal shuffled forward a little so Roger could extend a wing behind them like a soft cushion. This also pressed Crystal and John against Roger’s body. “Good morning,” Roger said. 

John twisted his head so he could give Roger a little good morning kiss. “Good morning,” he said, realising, with a little surge of joy that it was a very good morning indeed. 

Freddie gave a little sigh. “You’ll probably always find sex with other humans a bit of a disappointment now,” he noted. 

“Don’t let Freddie puncture your little bubble of happiness,” Brian advised him. “Enjoy the moment.”

“Oh, yes, do,” Roger urged him. “Shall I make us something for breakfast?” He pressed his lips to John’s again. “I’ve got quite an appetite this morning!”

*

It was a Sunday so John didn’t have to rush off anywhere. They made coffee and toast and scrambled eggs and had a bath together in the huge sunken bath in the bathroom. “It’s one of the reasons we took this place,” Crystal told John. “Birdie takes up so much room!”

“I don’t,” Roger protested. 

“Your massive wings do,” Crystal pointed out. He slung an arm around John’s shoulders. “He splashes about like a bird in a bird-bath. It’s very entertaining.”

“I do not!” Roger huffed.

“I have to blow hot air at him to dry his feathers,” Crystal confided to John. 

“You blow hot air constantly,” Roger grumbled, kissing Crystal’s cheek. “I do appreciate that,” he added.

*

John accompanied them to the soup kitchen. Miami was there too and raised an eyebrow as they arrived together. John felt his cheeks heat up. “I’m glad to see you’re all getting along well,” he murmured as they entered the building.

“Volunteering here has been very good for John,” Brian observed. “It’s helped with his confidence and he’s learned new things about himself.”

“Yes, he’s learning a lot,” Freddie added, “and having fun at the same time, which is so important.”

Miami grinned. “That’s good to hear!”

“Yes, I’m so glad I volunteered,” John murmured, “It’s definitely been an experience.”


End file.
